


The waltz of the heart

by NoaLowe



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Ciri (mentioned) - Freeform, Corvo Bianco (The Witcher), Eskel &Lambert as brothers, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mage Jaskier | Dandelion, Mentioned Renfri | Shrike (The Witcher), Not Actually Unrequited Love, Original Character Death(s), Parenthood, Powerful Jaskier, Single Parents, Yennefer is a good friend, english not my first language, minor spoiler Witcher Game 1&2&3, natural Witcher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:54:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23934898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoaLowe/pseuds/NoaLowe
Summary: Geralt lives in Corvo Bianco. Jaskier lives in Novigrad.When a young boy came at the Rosemary and Thyme, Jaskier thinks it's a curse. Someone had curse Geralt! Obviously. There is no other explanation for this young boy who looks so much like the Witcher on his doorstep.But this young boy named Julian and his Geralt's son. And he had a letter for the bard. His late mother begged him to bring him to his legitimate father.Jaskier will do it, even if he had to face the man who broke his heart and split his soul in two.
Relationships: Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 48
Kudos: 167





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language.  
> This fanfiction is my first in English. So please, be nice with me and feel free to correct my mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had been beta-readed.

The sun was setting down on Rivia.

It was already late into the midsummer day. A young boy, the face hidden behind a hood, was running toward a farmhouse, outside the town. He was panting hard, his forehead sweating and he was hugging a small package against his chest.

He was fast. Really fast. Inhumanly fast.

A horse rushed as he passed at its side and its rider yelled after the young boy.

“Sorry, Sir,” the boy exclaimed without slowing down.

The young left the main road and turned right to the farm. He put his left foot on a tree to negotiate the sharp turn, made a cabriole before falling back to his feet, and opened the door of the house.

“Mom!”

The boy ran to the first floor and fell on his knees beside the bed where his mother was lying.

The poor woman was sick. Her pale skin glistened with sweat and her breathing was erratic.

“Julian,” she whispered.

She lifted her hand and dropped the hood that concealed his features. The white hair, cut short, shone by candlelight on the bedside table and the catlike eyes were full of hope.

“I have the herbs, mom.”

She smiled weakly.

“You’re a good boy, Julian.”

She coughed, hard, and she spit blood, a lot of blood.

The hope faded in the boy’s eyes and tears blurred their beautiful golden color. He rose to his feet, his hand crushing on the herbs bag and turned toward the stairs. With the herbs, his mom would heal soon and…

“Julian, come here.”

The boy looked at his mom over this shoulder.

“I have to make the tea.”

The woman shook her head and patted the bed beside her.

“It’s too late, my dear boy.”

“Mom, don’t say that. You...”

The boy whined as his mother shook her head again.

“Come here, please.”

Julian did as he was told and took place on the bed. His mother sat up against the headboard and took his hand.

“I’m dying, my dear boy. You have to listen carefully.” Julian nodded. “I have sold the farm. The money is in the small box in the kitchen. There is a letter, too. Take it and go to Novigrad. You have to find Master Jaskier and give him the letter. He will know what to do with you.”

She opened her arms and the boy crashed on her chest.

“I love you, Julian,” she whispered in his hair. “You are the most beautiful gift the gods ever gave me.”

“I love you too, mom.”

They stayed silent for a long time, hugging.

“Be careful on the road, my boy.”

Julian nodded.

“I know mom. No one should see my eyes.” He said. “And I...”

He couldn’t say more. His mother’s hand slid along his back.

“Mom?”

No one answered.

The boy bit his lips and he cried for a long time, his face hidden against his mother's chest.

*

At dawn, Julian took a last look at his home before leaving it for the last time. His mother was lying on her bed, a flower placed on her chest. Someone would find her and would bury her. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t find the courage to do it. He folded his hood over his head, adjusted his pack on his shoulder, and began his journey toward Vengerberg.

  
*

“No, no, no, my dear. Your hand! You need to raise it… Yeah, like that. Let’s start over.”

Jaskier looked at the theater troupe he had hired for Priscilla. His dear friend would sing again, finally. And they had written a whole piece for the occasion.

As usual, in the morning, there were a few customers at the Rosemary and Thyme. Jaskier’s girls were asleep at this hour, no one was singing to entertain the patrons. The cook was working in his kitchen and Zoltan was drinking his first ale of the day at the bar.

Well…

“Exactly! You’ve got it! Good. Practice without me.”

Jaskier stood up and went to the stairs.

“Zoltan, I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

The dwarf raised his tankard and Jaskier left the room. On the first floor, he went to the last room and entered. His office was his personal space. No one came in. Even his sleeping room saw more people than his office. Tastefully furnished, he likes spending time there, working on his music or working in the management of his establishment.

He took place at his table and opened the accounts book. He managed to count half of the earnings of the week when he heard Zoltan shout his name.

“Fuck,” Jaskier swore before putting down his pen and getting up. He opened the door.

“What?”

“Come down! We have a problem!”

A problem?

Jaskier winced. The last time a problem came at his door, he’d ended up in jail. Well, for Ciri’s pretty eyes, he would do anything but a few weeks of peace would be welcome.

“Coming!”

He locked up the door behind him and went down to the main room. Some of the girls followed him, awoken by the noise, as he passed in front of their rooms. They stayed hidden in the stairs while he reached the ground floor.

The main door was open and Zoltan stared at a little silhouette, its features hidden by a hood.

“What’s going on?”

The dwarf moved as Jaskier reached the cabaret’s door.

“Look for yourself.”

He frowned and looked at the silhouette.

He gasped.

In front of him, a boy. A young boy, maybe eleven or twelve years, stared at him, his eyes shone with relief on a too-pale face, like he hadn’t slept or eaten well the past weeks.

But…

His eyes…

Jaskier sighed.

“Melitele help me! Come in boy!”

He smiled as he took the boy’s shoulder and cast a desperate look to his friend.

“What’s going on?” He asked without a sound crossing his lips.

Zoltan shook his head, lost too.

“Shyan! Bring us something to eat and run a bath for my little friend.”

“Yes, Boss!”

Jaskier gently pushed the child toward a chair.

“Sit boy,” he demanded kindly.

The boy obeyed and sat. He stayed silent as Jaskier and Zoltan sat in front of him. The bard didn’t know what to think. In front of him was a younger version of Geralt. The hair was white, the eyes were cat-like and golden and the general attitude was as friendly as his older version.

“What’s your name boy?” He eventually asked although he feared the answer.

He didn’t have time for a cursed Witcher. He loved him, dearly, but a teenage Witcher? After Cirilla?

Melitele have mercy!

“Julian, Sir.”

Well, that was unexpected.

“Pardon?”

“My name is Julian.”

Jaskier and Zoltan exchanged a look, both confused.

Not a cursed Witcher, then?

Shyan came and set down a plate of stew in front of the boy.

“Eat, Julian, and tell us your story.”

A ravenous smile flourished on the boy’s face. The bard smiled too. How many times had he seen that expression on the Witcher’s face?

But, unlike his older version, the boy ate slowly despite being famished. Jaskier watched him carefully. The boy was obviously well educated. It felt like watching Yennefer rather than Geralt. Even Cirilla was more boyish than the kid before them.

The boy finished his meal and discreetly wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“Thank you. I really was hungry.”

“You’re welcome Julian. So… Talk.”

The boy grabbed the bag he had placed at his feet and took out a letter. He handed it to Jaskier.

“My mother died a few weeks ago. She told me to come here and give the letter to you.”

Jaskier unfolded the letter and began to read.

_ Dear Julian, _

_ I don’t know if you will remember me but I try to refresh your memories. _

_ Twelve years ago, you and the White Wolf came to Rivia and killed a werewolf. The monster had killed my parents. You stayed a few days at my house, during which Geralt had healed. _

Jaskier remembered. A lovely young woman, with long blond hair, light blue eyes, and beautiful smile.

_ The night before you left, you spent the night at Rivia to earn some money. Geralt and I… we slept together. I thought Witchers were sterile, but a few weeks later, I found out that I was pregnant. I choose to not say a thing. I was afraid. I didn’t want to lose my boy. _

_ But I’m dying and Julian (I couldn’t name him after his father) is not a normal boy. He had some of his father’s abilities. He needs him now. _

_ I know you’re kind Julian. Please, grant the last wish of a dying mother, help my boy to find his father. _

_ With all my affection, _

_ Lilia. _

Jaskier closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

“What’s going on?” Zoltan asked, intrigued by his reaction.

The bard handed the letter to him. The dwarf read it. Twice.

“Fuck. He’s Geralt’s boy? It explains the...” Zoltan vaguely pointed at his own face. “Fuck, I need a drink.”

“Yeah, me too.”

The dwarf left the table, looking for ale.

Jaskier stared at the boy.

He didn’t want to see Geralt.

The Witcher had broken his heart more than once. One look, he knew he'd fall in love with him all over again and he didn’t know if he could bear another heartbreak.

After the mountain, the death, the amnesia and all this shit with Ciri, he didn’t have the courage to face him again.

But he couldn’t turn down the last wish of a mother.

“Who is Geralt?”

The boy's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“Who is Geralt?” Julian asked again.

Jaskier sent a quick prayer to the Gods.

“What do you know about your unique features, my dear boy?”

Julian looked at his hand, embarrassed.

“You can talk to me, Julian. I have friends with the same eyes as yours.”

“Really?”

The boy’s hopeful smile broke the bard’s heart.

“Yeah. Really.”

And the boy talked. His hands moving along with his story, Julian told him about his mother, about his life at the farm, how the people looked strangely at him all the time. He explained why his mother commanded him to hide his face, his eyes, his hair. But when he asked about his father, his mother just said he was a hero. And like most heroes, he died, defending the oppressed races.

_ Yeah _ , thought Jaskier. He died like a hero in Rivia and he had returned from the dead, like a god. The bard never forgot the long mourning. No body to bury, no grave to cry upon. For five years, he had mourned the idiot. At some point, he moved on. The cabaret helped him with his unwanted feeling toward the Witcher.

And one day, his friend Shany told him that Geralt was alive. With no memory of the past, but alive. During his long life, Jaskier never thought he would curse the Gods. That day, he had. His long lost friend—love—didn’t recognize him and his heart broke once again. It was just the confirmation that he never had been important in the Witcher’s life

“So, you know nothing about your father.”

The boy shook his head.

“Great.”

Zoltan handed him a tankard of ale and Jaskier drank half of it in one go.

“I know your father, he’s a friend of mine. But I will talk about him after you take a bath and a nap. You look like you’re going to faint some time soon.”

The boy was about to speak when Jaskier stood up and called one of his employees.

“Take him to my room.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Julian was a good boy. He didn’t try to talk again and followed the girl.

The bard dropped into the chair and sighed heavily.

“What are you going to do with him?”

Jaskier shrugged.

“What do you think? Geralt won’t be at his house before winter. I will keep the boy with us and in two months or so I’ll take him to Beauclair.”

The dwarf frowned and put a hand on his friend's arm.

“Are you sure? I can do it if you want.”

A joyless laugh escaped Jaskier’s lips.

“No. I’ll do it. I do want to see the face Geralt’ll make when he takes the first look at his son.”

Zoltan patted his arm and stood up.

Alone with his thoughts, Jaskier wondered why he felt like it was a divine duty to bring the boy to his father.

Like it was Destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it was not to badly written and that you enjoyed reading.  
> This story will be updated every day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had been beta-readed.

It took three weeks to reach Beauclair.

Jaskier had dropped his fancy clothes for a less showy travel outfit. After all, he was not really welcome in the duchy of Toussaint. The last time he had come here, a minor misunderstanding with the duchess had almost sent him to the gallows.

Most of the trip took place aboard a boat. From Novigard to Maribor and from Mayena to Belhaven. Jaskier bought a mare in Belhaven for the both of them, Julian not being very heavy for a child of his age.

Four days later, they were in Beauclair.

Jaskier had always liked this city. Colorful, the sun shines most of the year, Beauclair was the city of romantics and he was seeking after his own love tragedy.

It was the beginning of the winter, yet the temperature was almost as hot as in summer at Novigard. He and the boy were sweaty when they finally reached the domain of Corvo Bianco. Jaskier felt the sting of jealousy stung between his ribs facing the fabulous vineyard.

What a beautiful place to live! He loved his cabaret but here it was so peaceful… How many songs would he compose, sitting near the stream flowing in the field?

A man came to them as he dismounted.

“Welcome to Corvo Bianco Sir.”

“Thank you.” Jaskier answered before giving the reins to the stableboy. Julian already had jumped out of the mare without help. “Is Geralthome?”

The man frowned, suspicious.

“No, Master Geralt is not back yet.”

The bard winced. He had not planned to stay more than a few days there before returning to Novigrad.

“Well… I’m Julian Pankratz de Lettenhove...”

The face of the man lit up.

“Oh sure! Master Jaskier! I should have recognized you. I saw you performing ten years ago. Master Geralt will be pleased to see you. I’m Barnabas-Basile by the way, Master Geralt’s butler..”

Julian stood behind Jaskier, perfectly silent.

“And who is the young boy?” asked Barnabas, curious.

Jaskier smiled.

“Julian, say hi.”

The boy took a step aside and bowed his head. When he straightened up, his hood fell down to his shoulders. Barnabas gasped softly in face of Julian’s unique features but the butler immediately recovered. Jaskier was impressed. Well… He did serve a Witcher.

“Nice to meet you Master Julian. You seem exhausted. Maybe can I show you to your room?”

The butler turned around and went back to the house. Jaskier followed him, but was stopped by a hand on his own.

“My dear boy?”

Julian seemed to be looking for his words.

“It is… Is this my father’s home?”

The bard knelt before him and smiled.

“It’s your father’s home. You will live here now.”

He hoped anyway. Geralt was soft with children, having one of his own shouldn’t be a problem.

The butler waited for them at the entrance of the house. They followed him into the building. Julian exclaimed, mesmerized by the house. Jaskier agreed with him, the one who decorated the house had shown great taste. Probably the butler, he couldn't picture Geralt as an interior decorator.

“Your room will be upstairs, Master Julian. Feel free to settle in.”

The boy didn't need to be told again. He climbed the stairs quickly, leaving the two adults alone in the main room.

Jaskier wandered around the room, letting his fingers lingering around the armors that were on display. He knew some of them. He sighed deeply, bending under the weight of the memories. It seemed like another life when he followed Geralt in his adventures, singing his courage and his bravery.

“Master Jaskier? Your room during your stay.”

The butler waited before an open door.

The bard took a look at it. More armors and weapons were on display along the walls. He frowned.

“It’s the master room, isn’t it?”

Why did he show him Geralt’s room?

“Yes Sir.”

“But I can’t sleep here. Geralt...”

“… will reap my throat if I settle you in the domestic area or worse, if you have to take a room in the city. And the other rooms in the house are Witchers’ rooms. I’m not sure Master Eskel or Master Lambert will be pleased to have a stranger’s scent in their bed.”

Oh! Geralt’s brothers were living with him. It made sense. After Vesemir's death, nothing tied them to Kaer Morhen anymore.

“Well, I don’t want your blood on my hands.”

“Thank you. Master Geralt was very clear about this. If you ever came to the estate when he wasn’t there, I would have to treat you like himself.”

Jaskier tried to smile, but an unsettling feeling clenched his guts. What was he going to do when Geralt was back?

*

Quickly, almost naturally, Jaskier chose the ornamental garden as his favorite place on the estate. Behind the house, he felt like he was alone in the world, bathed in the sound of the little stream and the birds. The scent of the last flowers of the year enchanted his senses, reviving the inspiration that had deserted him a long time ago, since Geralt's death. His last piece had been the Witcher's requiem and he wasn’t able to write anything since then. Even his return hadn’t changed a thing.

Two days after their arrival at Beauclair, he was in the garden, a parchment on his knees, writing the first words of a joyful ballad, his lute posed a few paces from him.

The boy spent his time discovering the area and right now, he must be in the vineyards with the workers, judging by the laughter that came from it.

A slight shiver shook his spine, a second before he heard footsteps on the small bridge that spanned the stream.

“Oy! Buttercup!”

A genuine smile flourished on Jaskier’s lips.

“My dear friend Lambert! What a pleasure!” He greeted the witcher as he was coming in view.

They hugged and the witcher sat beside the bard.

"So... Geralt fucking got his head out of his ass?"

Jaskier frowned as Lambert looked at him, a bawdy smile stretching his lips.

“What?”

“Oh come on! You’re not here for me, are you?

The witcher winked at him.

The bard lost his smile and sight. They already talked about it, each time the Witcher had come to the cabaret. Lambert kept telling him that Geralt had feelings for him, however, Jaskier didn't believe it. How could he? He had been the first witness of his passionate romance with Yennefer. Even if Geralt really had a soft spot for him, it could never overcome the strong feelings he had for the witch. And Jaskier was tired of being the witcher's last choice.

“Stop with this nonsense, please. Geralt will never confess anything to me.”

Lambert raised a questioning eyebrow.

“If you’re not coming for Geralt… Why are you here?”

Jaskier chuckled.

“You’ll see.”

He stood up and took a few steps.

“Julian! Come here, my boy!”

He didn't even have to shout as a cry from the vineyard below answered him immediately.

“Coming Uncle Jaskier!”

A few seconds later, a white-haired tornado jumped into Jaskier's arms, nearly knocking him down.

“What’s up?”

The kid grinned a wolfish smile.

Lambert choked on his own saliva.

“Fuck!”

Jaskier tried to refrain his laugh as he faced the witcher.

“Julian, say hi to your uncle Lambert.”

“Hi.”

Lambert rose on his feet and came toward the kid. His face was blank. But Jaskier knew better. He saw the confusion and the uneasiness in the amber eyes. He raised his hand, almost touching the child's cheek.

“Is he… Was he...”

“Made?” Supplied Jaskier.

Anger and pain flew briefly into the Witcher's eyes.

“No. Julian is a natural child.”

Astonishment lit up the cat's eyes and Lambert took a quick breath and laughed loudly.

When he had calmed down, his hands rested on the boy's cheeks and he stroked his cheekbone with his thumb.

"You can count on Gerald to be the first Witcher to have a kid of his own. Come on kiddo, show Uncle Lambert what you can do.”

The boy smiled and jumped from the bard's arms and started to run towards the vineyard. Lambert glanced at the bard –  _ we'll talk about this later  _ – before running after the child.

Jaskier sighed heavily.

Maybe it was time for him to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> I'm looking for a beta-reader and I have no idea where to find one. So if you are interested in correcting my story, let me a comment.  
> Hope you enjoy your reading,
> 
> Noa


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had been beta-readed

Jaskier didn’t leave.

Eskel came back the day after.

After the first shock, the two witchers played with the child. Or rather, they had tried to figure out what he could do with his natural mutations. Physically, Julian competed in speed and agility with the two adults. In terms of strength, he was already beyond an average human young adult.

“The boy is amazing! None of us was this good at his age!” Lambert exclaimed after supper.

It was late. Julian was in bed and Jaskier, Eskel and Lambert stood behind, determined to empty the wine cellar of their absent friend.

Eskel was still skeptical.

“Are sure he’s not the result of an experiment?”

Jaskier nodded.

“I remember his mother. Geralt will surely confirm it if he ever comes back.”

The bard drank a sip of wine. It was good. Really good. Probably an old one. The bottles Geralt sent him once a year for his cabaret weren’t as good. What a shame! A bottle like this could be sold twice or three times the price.

“And you? No kid with the lovely bardess… What’s her name. Priscilla?” asked Eskel, curious.

Lambert frowned as Jaskier raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“I can’t have kids anymore, my dear.”

An uneasy silence fell on the room.

“Oh come on! You’re not a witcher!” Exclaimed Eskel after a while, laughing.

Jaskier smiled softly.

“Nope, I’m a mage now.”

Eskel looked at him, stunned.

“You’re kidding me?”

Lambert let out a bark.

“Fuck. You didn’t know? He’s fifty years old, you idiot. Does he look fifty years old?”

“Fifty years?”

“Yes, my dear.”

Eskel looked closely at the features on his face. No wrinkles, full cheeks, high cheekbones. He looked like he was about twenty years old at most. He sniffed the air around the bard.

“Why can’t I smell it?”

Jaskier undid a few buttons on his shirt. Around his neck, a flower-shaped medallion shone faintly by the candlelight.

“Triss enchanted it for me to escape the witch hunters after helping me control my power.”

Eskel frowned a deeper.

“You weren’t a mage before. I’m pretty sure of it.”

“Well… Triss thinks it was latent. A great shock must have awakened it.”

“A great… You were in Rivia when...”

Yeah, Geralt’s death. It seemed that all his life rounded around the witcher.

Jaskier just nodded, a lump in this throat at the painful memory.

For a moment the three men stayed in silence, emptying their glasses before Lambert refilled them.

“Fuck. Does Geralt know?” exclaimed Eskel, suddenly aware of the importance of such news for his absent brother.

Jaskier shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I won’t be so sure about that. He has always been pretty concerned about your life span.”

He didn’t want to talk about Geralt. He was not here for that. He was here for the kid. Only the kid. He was waiting for his old friend only to make sure Julian was welcome in his house. That was all. And catch up with the two other witchers.

He liked Lambert and Eskel. Only acquaintances when Geralt was alive, they had gotten closer after his death. After all, he was the one who knew Geralt best, second only to his brothers. And when he acquired his cabaret, the two witchers had a safe place to spend the night around Novigrad. With time, they had become friends.

“It doesn’t matter,” he repeated.

The subject was closed.

They talked about the hunts, about the cabaret, about anything other than Geralt.

Two hours and three bottles later, they went to bed.

His relationship with Eskel and Lambert was so easy. Why did he have to fall in love with Geralt? Until the mountain, he wasn’t aware of the depth of his feelings toward his witcher. The heartbreak, the sorrow, the tears, the screams, the pain… Oh the pain!

Priscilla had helped him through it, but he wasn’t the man of her life. They were just good friends.

He undressed completely and went to bed. Maybe his dreams would leave him alone for once.

*

It was past midnight when Geralt reached his house.

No one was there to welcome him and he was okay with that. It was late. All he dreamed of was a good bath and to sleep in his own bed and till noon.

He was exhausted. Really exhausted.

He led Roach to the stable, unloaded her of his things and went into the house. The smell told him that his brothers were already home and someone else too. He didn't try to recognize the scent, maybe one of his brothers brought someone with him. He didn't care.

He went down to the basement and took a well-deserved bath after his untimely encounter with a band of ghouls on the road.

Once clean, he finally went to his room. The scent of lavender and cedar wood filled his nose and he took a deep breath. He liked the smell. It was the smell of home. And it was absolutely abnormal here. His eyesight adjusted to half-light in his room and he discovered a body in his bed.

A tiny smile stretched his lips. Only one person carried the scent.

Jaskier.

_ His bard. _

He didn't bother to wonder why the bard was in his bed. He was going to take this gift as it was and he laid down. The bard moved slightly and he took the opportunity to nest his nose against his neck.

_ Home. _

It had been a long time since he had had the opportunity to smell it. He drowned happily in it until falling asleep, his arms tightly locking around the bard.

*

The sun was high in the sky when Geralt woke up. He didn't need to open his eyes to know that the bard was no longer in bed. With one hand, he touched the place he occupied. It was still lukewarm and the witcher couldn't help but move to bathe in the bard’s scent, still present between the sheets.

Soft warmth invaded him, like an echo of the many times he had woken up with Jaskier in his arms, so long ago. The bitterness of memories shattered the moment of bliss. Since his outburst on the mountain, he and Jaskier had never shared a bed again. His jaws tensed. He had been right that day. Jaskier, so-human Jaskier, had stopped following him on the dangerous Path. He had ripped out his own heart, ruined what was left of his soul that day, but no sacrifice was too big to keep the bard –  _ his bard _ – safe.

He had apologized. He had to. What he had said that day was so wrong it had eaten him alive until he made it right. But their relationship was never the same again.

And the present had supported his decision! Jaskier had never asked him to kill anyone, yet he hadn’t hesitated when the pretty bardess, Priscilla, had been attacked three years ago. Jaskier was happy with her and anyone with eyes could only see how much.

Tired of regrets, he concentrated on the best memories inspired by the faint smell of the bard. He was determined to enjoy it a little more when noise outside the house tore him away from the warmth of memories.

“Come on boy! Show me that jump!”

A tiny smile flourished on his lips.

His family was home.

He sighed fondly and got up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had been beta-readed.

Geralt took his time before going out to join his brothers and Jaskier. Barnabas was waiting for him, the account book already in his hand, when he left his room to eat something.

"Ah! Master Geralt! I am delighted to see you in good shape."

"Thank you Barnabas-Basile. Did everything go well this year?"

Geralt took his place at the table and served himself a tea and a piece of bread, which he spread with butter, and a good slice of cheese while his butler gave him a brief report on the vineyard’s business.

He ate slowly, listening to Barnabas, like a common little nobleman and not like the Witcher he was. However, it suited him perfectly. He spent winter at home and the rest of the year, he traveled the roads to do his duties.It was like before, except that he’d never had that feeling of peace in Kaer Morhen. The walls of Kaer Morhen were tainted with bad memories of his childhood, of pain, of blood, and of death. And after Vesemir death, there's absolutely nothing for him to go back to that place.

He shook his head. He didn’t want to remember the death of his old mentor. The wound was too fresh yet.

“We will look at it in detail tomorrow.” He said before getting up, eager to be with his family again.

“Of course Sir.”

Barnabas-Basile closed the account book and took his leave as Geralt went out in the yard. To his surprise, neither Jaskier or his own brothers were in front of the house. He cocked and listened to his surroundings. Beyond the normal noises of the servants and the animals of the farmyard, he heard Jaskier’s familiar laughter and Lambert’s joyful bark behind him. They were on the other side of the house.

For a moment, jealousy obscured his good mood. He hadn’t known that the bard and his brother got along so well. He groaned, annoyed by his own reactions. He had no right to be jealous of anyone in Jaskier's life.

Some of his servants welcomed him with genuine smiles and waves, fear of the new Master Witcher long forgotten. Kids came running around him, laughing loudly. A young girl came toward him a little slower, her round cheeks flushed red, with a flower crown in her little hand. With a shy smile, she offered it to him. Taken aback, he paused for a few seconds before smiling in turn and placing a knee on the ground. The little girl giggled and placed the crown on his head.

"Thank you."

The little girl giggled again before running to her mother.

He was pleased. He tried very hard to be a good master and those displays of affection went straight to his heart.

The estate smelled of wine, earth, and happiness.

He took a deep breath of it, chasing away the last traces of the unwanted jealousy. With his good mood back, he went around the house, crossed the stream, and joined Lambert and Jaskier under the arbor.

The bard was sitting on the bench, parchment forgotten at his side. His brother was standing in the center, his gaze fixed on the vine below.

“What’s the fuck are you doing?” He asked, surprised by Lambert’s behavior.

The witcher spared him a brief look before murmuring: “Come on boy, show me that jump.”

A howl far away in the vineyard answered his quiet words.

Bewildered, Geralt heard quick footsteps running towards them, while Eskel emerged from the vine, shaking his head.

The creature jumped across the stream, climbed the wall without a single pause, jumped on the roof of the garden of medicinal herbs and finished his demonstration with an acrobatic leap which sent him straight into Lambert's arms, who anticipated the movement and stepped back to absorb the impact.

“I heard you, Uncle Lambert!” Grinned Julian, proud of him.

Eskel followed the boy, and stopped by Geralt's side.

“You finally honor us with your presence.”

But Geralt didn’t hear him. All his attention was on the boy in Lambert’s arms.

“What the fuck?” He growled, the anger rising in his chest at the obvious signs of mutation the child showed.

Eskel put a hand on his shoulder.

“Calm down, White Wolf, he’s not the result of a witcher’s experimentations.”

A chuckle soothed the Wolf's anger.

Jaskier stood up and raised a hand to the boy, inviting him to join him.

“Julian?”

Lambert put the boy down and took the offered hand before squeezing it, his face betraying a certain nervousness.

“Stop glowering Geralt, you're freaking him out. My dear boy,” he said after putting a knee on the ground, “say hi to your father.”

“Hi, Father,” said the boy with a trembling voice.

Geralt looked at Jaskier, searching for a hint of a joke in the cornflower blue eyes, but they were deadly serious. A shiver of panic ran through his spine. He couldn’t have a kid of his own.

Could he?

But the kid looked so much like him that he couldn't doubt the bard's words.

He needed time to process the information. It was like being sent to the past, to Cintra, twenty years ago.

He opened his mouth but words couldn’t describe what he was feeling right now. Lost, he turned on his heels and ran without a second glance.

“Well... He's reacting pretty well.” Muttered Eskel, his eyes following the huge frame of his brother disappearing around the corner of the house.

"Damn it," growled Jaskier, "Stay with your uncles. I'll be back with your dad."

Julian nodded obediently and Jaskier followed Geralt, furious at his friend for his lack of tact with the kid.

“So… You said you didn’t hear what I said to the kid?” He heard Lambert ask to Eskel.

Jaskier didn’t listen to the rest of the conversation between the two Witchers. He followed Geralt into the house and found him in his room, on his knees, ready to meditate.

“You ass! What the fuck was that? Would it have ripped your mouth to say hello at least?”

Geralt’s back was faced towards him but he heard him growl.

“Oh please, don’t! I know I’m shoveling  _ shit _ on your doorstep again.”

The venom in the bard's words caught Geralt by surprise. He turned, confused.

"What? Yes... No! What do you—" Understanding contracted the muscles of his face and his golden eyes reflected his hurt and pain. "I didn't think... You… You never forgave me."

The revelation stabbed the witcher right in the heart. He’d thought—he had really thought that the bard had forgiven his outburst on the mountain. He had known their friendship had been altered permanently, but he hadn’t realized that Jaskier had never believed his apologies.

“Oh I did Geralt, and once you were done, you never looked back. I…” Jaskier sight. “That’s not the point.” He crossed the room and rummaged through his travel bag and pulled out the letter Julian had given him when he arrived at the cabaret. He pressed it against the witcher's chest.

“This time, you were the one who put his prick in the wrong hole. Julian’s your kid, you better behave yourself. Go! He’s waited for his father.”

Geralt didn’t give in. He grabbed the bard's arm as he returned to his bag.

"Jaskier, what I said—"

"Stop it. I know you're sorry, but you broke my heart and tore my soul in half that day. There is nothing more to say. And you have more important things to do now. Go.”

Geralt hesitated but Jaskier was right. His panic wasn’t fair for the kid. He let go of his arm and left the room.

Alone, Jaskier fell to his knees and wept in silence. That had been why he hadn’t wanted to see the Witcher again. The gaping wound in his soul still hadn't closed.

His job here was done. All he had to do was pack his things and go. Ten minutes later, he was in the main room, searching after the butler. He found him outside, near the stable.

“Barnabas-Basile? A word please?”

“Sure, Master Jaskier. What can I do for you?”

Jaskier glanced over his shoulder. From where he was he saw Julian in his father's arms, playing with the flower on his head. Despite everything, he smiled fondly at this sight. Geralt would be a good father for Julian like he was for the little princess.

"The mare is a gift for Julian. Can you tell him?"

"Of course, Master Jaskier. Are you not staying for supper?"

"No, I am expected at Novigrad."

"Good, Master. I hope to see you again soon. Have a nice trip."

He greeted the butler with a nod and with a wave of the hand and a short incantation, he opened a portal. He heard someone—Geralt?—call his name, but he didn't wait and crossed the portal before closing it after him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do found a Beta-reader. Thanks to Wow who corrects my mistakes. Thank you so much my dear!  
> I am So SORRY for the wrong chapter!

There was something disturbing about looking at the boy—his son—in the eyes. The golden, cat-like pupils, though so familiar, had no place in such a young face. But Geralt felt the pull that connected him to the boy like an echo of the one that linked him to Ciri.

He had read the letter before reaching the backyard and remembered the young woman who had thanked him in her own way for avenging her parents. And nothing, neither his medallion nor his enhanced senses, warned him of any magic.

The boy was a natural boy and he was his.

"If I understood correctly, you were already testing what skills he has."

His brothers looked away, embarrassed.

Eskel recovered first.

“It’s important. We have no idea what he can do. He must learn to control himself around others and we have to find out how he reacts to medicine too.”

Geralt winced.

“He  _ is _ a witcher,” added Lambert. “Even if he doesn’t take the Path in the future, he will have to train.”

Geralt looked at the boy in his arms.

“What do you think?”

The excitement in the golden eyes answered him almost as surely as the answer that followed.

“Yeah! I want to be a witcher! Like the White Wolf in the songs.”

The three men exchanged a look before breaking off into loud laughter.

Suddenly the pressure of magic invades the space and their laughter died in their throat. Geralt turned around and just had time to see Jaskier disappear through a portal.

“Jas?”

Geralt inhaled sharply, stunned, his eyes wide open as he witnessed the power of his friend and his hasty departure.

Something dark and painful clenched in his gut.

How had he missed that Jaskier was a mage?

And why hadn’t his friend told him such a thing?

“Geralt?” Lambert called softly.

“Did you know?” He asked, something dark in his voice.

A long silence followed his question. Neither Lambert or Eskel wanted to be the target of their brother's anger.

“Yeah, I did,” answered Lambert, his body tensing, ready for the outburst.

Geralt clenched his jaw, hard, but with the boy in his arms, he controlled himself. No need to rip his brother’s throat out. It was only his own fault if Jaskier didn’t have enough trust in him to share his secret.

*

Once in his room, Jaskier wasted no time. He ran a hot bath and immersed himself in it, wanting to rid himself of Geralt's smell as soon as possible. The sooner he forgot about their encounter, the sooner he could return to his life, and lock the feelings he had for the witcher in the depths of his soul.

What a fool he was!

He had stayed in Novigrad, in the hope that Geralt would finally see what he had in front of him. But the man was just as blind to other people's feelings as a kikimora. After the problem with Ciri had been resolved, the Witcher had never come back to Novigrad. Not once had he visited his friend, and even though they had a commercial contract together, Geralt always sent someone else to deliver the wine to the cabaret.

Maybe he should have gone to Kovir with the other witches when Triss had offered. But he was a hopeless, romantic fool.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Jaskier. Is that you?”

Sweet Priscilla.

“Yeah, it’s me. Come in.”

The girl was beside him in no time, frowning with concern.

“Are you okay?” She asked, gently stroking his cheek.

Jaskier sighed.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I spent much more time with Eskel and Lambert than Geralt. I was happy to see them.”

He didn’t miss the blush that adorned her cheeks at the mention of Eskel. He knew that his friend had a soft spot for the witcher. However, he was convinced that the latter hadn’t noticed it. Such a shame. Priscilla was a beautiful woman and he sometimes regretted not being able to get rid of the feelings that poisoned his life.

“And Julian? Will he be fine with his father?”

Jaskier nodded.

“Yes, I don’t doubt it. Geralt was good with Cirilla. He will be better for his own child.”

The young woman smiled.

“I don’t know how you can be so trusting of this man.”

“Because he is a good man, the best I ever met, even if he was harsh with me. I’m not the easiest person, either.”

She shook her head but said no more. They’d already had this argument many times and he was more stubborn than she could ever hope to be.

“I’ll let you bath in peace. I have to practice.”

She patted his shoulder and went out, leaving him alone.

He didn’t spend much time in his bath. There would be no point in staying and brooding in the water.

*

Two days later, Geralt called Yennefer for help.

He had a good idea of Julian’s skills now. The boy was good as he was after the Trials. Now, he needed to know if he had inherited his resistance to various poisons. And since it was out of the question to experiment on his own son, he needed a mage in whom he could trust and who knew Witcher mutations well. Triss would have been more qualified, but she had left him no way to contact her.

The black-haired sorceress came through a portal a few hours after he sent her a message. In it, he tried to be clear without saying anything about Julian. You didn’t know who else could read the letter if it was intercepted. And Julian would make a wonderful subject of experiment for any crazy mage.

“Hello Geralt,” She greeted. “You’ve piqued my curiosity with your nonsense.”

They hugged briefly.

“Come with me.”

“I hope it’s important because...”

They were coming out of the house and the boy was with Barnabas-Basile in front of the main door, reading a book about Redanian’s history.

“Oh my!” Yennefer exclaimed, a hint of disbelief in her voice. “How did you find a young witcher?”

Geralt laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Didn’t find him. He’s my son.”

Her purple eyes widened, shining with amazement and a touch of jealousy.

She gasped.

“Your son?”

Geralt nodded.

“How the hell did you do this?”

The Witcher chuckled.

“Like anyone else, I think.”

She recovered quickly. The corners of his mouth rose in a small smile.

“Well… Congratulations. Where’s the mother?”

Geralt sighed.

“She died a few weeks ago. This is why Julian is here now.”

“Julian? She named him after your bard? That’s sweet.”

He winced at the slight disdain he heard in her voice.

“Yennefer, please. Don’t.”

“Well… If we can't have fun anymore… What can I do for you or for your boy?”

He nodded, indicating the house to her. He went inside and the witch followed. Sitting at the table, he offered her a glass of wine and told her how Julian had ended up at his house a week ago.

“Alright. First question: why are you asking me to examine your son? Jaskier is perfectly capable of doing this.”

Geralt's face darkened at the mention of the bard's abilities.

He growled between his clenched teeth.

“You knew, too.” It was a statement. Not a question. “Am I the only one who didn’t know that Jaskier was a mage?”

She shook her head slightly and drank a bit of wine.

“You’re an idiot. Did you really think that an average human can escape the power of a djinn without damage like Jaskier did or survive the Witcher Path without dying? It always amazes me how you can be oblivious despite the evidence. Anyway… Jaskier studied the mutations of Witcher with Triss. In fact, he studied everything which can be useful for taking care of a Witcher.”

Geralt put a hand over his eyes, his lips pursed.

“He didn’t say anything. I learned he was a mage two days ago when he opened a portal to go back to Novigrad.”

Yennefer huffed loudly. Then, she chuckled.

“You two are hopeless. You and your bard. Go to Novigrad while I take care of your boy.”

The Witcher frowned.

“I’m not sure he wants to see me right now.”

She straightened up and leaned over the table at him, her eyes serious.

“Go, Geralt. Go finding your lover boy and please, talk to him. Tell him why on the earth you never acknowledged the feelings you had for him. I bet he would be delighted to hear it.”

The golden eyes widened in shame.

She smiled at him like a mother would smile at a stupid child.

“Oh please my dear, I spent hours in your mind. So… Hush! Hush!”

For a moment, he stayed still and the next, he was rushing to his room, followed by Yennefer’s laugh.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for yesterday's update. I have updated the good one.   
> I'll hope you'll enjoy this one too.

The road was long and hard for Roach. Her rider gave her little respite, stopping only when the poor mare couldn’t put a hoof in front of the other. It took two weeks for Geralt to reach Novigrad. He could've asked for Yennefer to open a portal for him but he needed time to think about what he would say to Jaskier. He’d have to bare his soul to the bard like he had never done for anyone before, not even for Yennefer – though she didn't need it.

Twilight was falling on the city when he reached Rosemary and Thyme. The cabaret was filled with people when he went in.

“Oh! Witcher!”

Geralt saw Zoltan at the bar, waving his hand, urging him to join him. He hesitated. A glance at the patrons informed him that Jaskier was not there. He joined the dwarf.

“Zoltan! How are you, my friend?”

An ale appeared on the bar for him. Geralt snatched the mug and took a large gulp of it.

“Life is good, my friend. What about you? The kid? A good one, our Jul’.”

“Hum.”

Shame hugged his chest. He had only spent two days with his son before setting off for Novigrad.

“Unexpected. But a good boy.”

“Are you going to make him a Witcher?”

Geralt finished his ale.

“Not my decision. I will train him though. He has to learn his strength.”

Priscilla was on the stage and her eyes widened, seeing the Witcher. The latter didn’t miss the sudden swell of nervousness emanating from the bardess. He had to find Jaskier before she could inform him he was here.

“Where’s Jaskier?”

“In his room, I think, or his office.”

Geralt thanked him with a nod and was on the stairs before the young woman even had time to rein in her surprise. He checked his office on the first floor before heading to the third. He’d been in Jaskier’s room once, and it’d been to talk to Avallac’h, the elf who’d helped Ciri on her quest.

He knocked at the door.

“Give me two minutes, Prisc’, and I'm going down.”

Geralt opened the door, stepped in, and closed it behind him.

Jaskier was in the middle of the room, his back turned to the door as he tugged his doublet on.

“Girl, you’re…” He turned and his eyes widened in surprise. “Geralt?”

“Jaskier.”

The Witcher saw the pain in the cornflower blue eyes before his behavior changed. The bard smiled widely.

“What a pleasure, my friend!”

He began to babble, the smell of anxiety rising in the room.

“Stop!” Command Geralt, anxious enough on his own without Jaskier’s anxiety rubbing off on him. “Sit.”

Jaskier stopped talking and his face darkened.

“You’re under my roof,  _ Witcher _ ,” Geralt winced, the word spat as an insult. “I don’t care what you want and I have—”

“You made your point under mine, Bard. It’s my turn. Do you know why I don’t involve myself with humans?”

Intrigued by the unexpected rush of word from the Witcher, Jaskier sat on his bed, arms crossed over his chest.

Geralt didn’t wait for an answer.

“Once, I fell for a human. I saw her, and I fell in love. I tried to protect her and guess how it ended? _ I killed her!” _

He stopped and watched the bard’s reaction.

Jaskier was white, his eyes wide and his lips parted.

“Yeah Jask’, I  _ am _ the Butcher of Blaviken. It is not a false rumor as you may think it to be. She wasn’t afraid of me, I fell for her and I killed her. Because she couldn’t do anything against me. She knew how to handle a sword. She was an excellent swordswoman but it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t kill me. I promised myself that I would never be involved with humans anymore. And twenty years later… You came in my life. You weren’t afraid, either. And guess what? I fell again! But I learned my lesson. I tried to turn you away from me, more than once. And I tried for almost twenty years. I finally succeeded. I’m not proud of what I said to you on the mountain, but I was glad it worked.”

He took a harsh breath.

“The day I died, one of my last thoughts was that I at least I won’t have the chance of ever hurting you, much less killing you.”

Jaskied was crying but the Witcher didn’t pay it any attention.

“Geralt.” He choked but he received no answer;

“Yennefer was perfect. Clever, beautiful, and powerful. I could be free with her. Not in love or really happy, but free.”

“Because she can kill you.”

“Exactly! She could kill me if she wanted! You couldn’t. With my love for you eating me alive, I was trapped in a nightmare.”

He felt the walls he’d built around his soul, his heart, were collapsing under the weight of his feelings. He fell onto his knees, exhausted. His heart and soul were on the floor at Jaskier’s feet.

“For fifty years I was the monster who wanted too much. First Renfri and then you.”

A long silence followed Geralt's speech.

And a light chuckled broke it.

The Witcher winced.

“I don’t mock you, Witcher.”

Jaskier rose on his feet and joined the defeated man.

“You are… Oh Melitele, please, help me! You are the most romantic man I’ve ever met.”

Geralt looked up, surprised.

“What?”

The bard approached him.

“Why are you here Geralt?” He asked softly.

He stood right in front of him. The Witcher stayed silent, unsure of what to say.

“Because, now, you know I can kill you,” supplied the bard.

Jaskier waved his hand and a pressure stroked the Witcher’s throat. He breathed harshly as the pressure got stronger.

Something loosed up in him. For the first time in his life, he was happy. No. It was more than just happiness. He felt blessed. His feelings and his wants and his fears had found their master. Geralt smiled and his body went slack in the hold of Jaskier’s magic, a low, throaty noise escaping his mouth.

As suddenly as it came, the magic withdrew.

Geralt opened his eyes and saw nothing but love in the cornflower blue eyes above him.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Jaskier muttered fondly as he cupped Geralt’s face.

“Yeah, I know.”

The Witcher slid his hand over his neck and pulled the bard down to kiss him. It was just a brush of lips at first. Neither of them closed their eyes, afraid it would be just a dream. And it felt like a dream. They’d dreamt of this instant for almost thirty years, thinking they’d never have it.

The moment did not last.

The bard fell into Geralt’s lap and the kiss turned into something more passionate. Hands gripped at clothes, tugged at hair as they tried to practically climb each other, desperate moans filling the air between them.

Jaskier pulled away, out of the breath, a broad smile lighting up his face.

"You're filthy, my dear Wolf."

He whispered as if he was afraid to ruin the loving moment.

Geralt chuckled.

"I wasted no time on the road."

Dramatic as ever, Jaskier's eyes widened with concern.

"Oh God! My dear Roach! Is she okay?"

The Witcher smiled. A real smile. A happy smile.

"She's fine. Exhausted, but fine."

The bard gave him a quick peck and stood up. The Witcher tried to stop him, but he slipped away with ease.

"Take a bath and rest. I am expected downstairs anyway."

He quickly smoothed down his clothes and combed his fingers through his hair. 

“Jask’...”

Geralt rose to his feet and gently gripped his arm. There was distress in the golden eyes. The bard put his hand on his cheek and caressed it tenderly.

"Don't fret my love, I'll be back later. I promise."

They shared a gentle kiss before Jaskier waved a hand toward the tub, filled it with warm and clean water, and left the room.

The door closed and Jaskier leaned against it. Without the Witcher’s presence, Jaskier tried to regain his senses and his breath. What had just happened was so unexpected that he wasn’t sure how to react. Even in his wildest dreams, he had never dared to imagine such a confession from his friend.

He wasn't even sure if it had been the real Geralt in his room!

Well, there was one way to find out. He opened a portal and disappeared inside.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was my first English story.  
> I did my share in my own language a long time ago (15 years).  
> I'm so happy you liked it. I really love the Witcher universe and I thank all the people who were kind enough to leave a comment.  
> It's the first one but not the last.  
> Thank you.  
> Noa

The door to Corvo Bianco's main house suddenly opened, startling everyone at the table.

“Where is he?” Asked Jaskier, his gaze roaming the room, looking for the Witcher.

“Little flower, how nice of you to come and say hi to your old friends!” Greeted Yennefer, keeping her wits even if she was utterly surprised to see him here.

The presence of the witch had the effect of calming the bard.

“Yen? What are you doing here? I thought you were in...”

She waved.

“Our mutual friend asked for my help with his little boy.”

Jaskier went and hugged her, happy to see her. She could be a helpful hand if the man in his room at Novigrad wasn't Geralt after all. He dropped onto the chair by her side and stole the glass of Eskel’s wine,who growled in response, but without putting threat to it.

He drank it in one go.

“You are looking for who exactly?” Asked Lambert, a bit confused.

“Ah yes! Geralt! Where is he?”

Everyone seemed a little worried by the question.

“What?” Jaskier groaned, more and more nervous.

“I sent him to you two weeks ago. Did he not make it to Novigrad?” Yennefer answered, frowning.

All the tension was released from the bard's body. So it was the real Geralt in his room in Novigrad. What a relief!

Geralt's words then took on their full meaning and he blushed furiously.

“Jas’?” Called out Eskel, concerned by the bard’s behavior and his apparently missing brother. “What’s going on?”

The bard took a deep breath.

“An hour ago, Geralt rushed into my room and confessed his... love? Surely you see why I had a little trouble believing that it was our Geralt."

No one said a word for a long minute.

Then the two Witchers broke a laugh and the sorceress chuckled.

"See! I was right!" Barked Lambert, tears of laughter around the eyes.

Jaskier chuckled too, relieved. It wasn't a bad joke. Geralt really had feelings for him, had had them for a long time it seemed, and this absolute idiot had preferred to play martyr rather than risk injuring his favorite bard.

Yennefer's fingers touched his cheek.

“Don’t cry, little flower. The idiot loves you.”

“You knew?”

She nodded and sighed loudly.

“I wish I could have done something about it but he was so torn apart by those feelings. At first, I was so jealous of this purest kind of love but after the mountain, I understood the curse and what it implied. Despite his wish at the djinn, he was so in love with you he condemned himself to misery because of it. However, I didn’t know why. I understood it two weeks ago. I knew you weren’t as human as you said, but it never occured to me that Geralt didn’t know about it! But I saw how knowing you were a mage would hurt him. I’m sorry, little flower, I wish I understood him earlier.”

On an impulse, he kissed on her cheek.

“Don’t be. Geralt is too noble for his own good and I didn't know I was something more than a simple bard at that time.”

He wiped the tears running on his face and smiled.

“By the way! Where is Julian?”

The dramatic atmosphere waned when the two Witchers looked embarrassed and Yennefer's eyes narrowed in false anger.

“What have they done?” The bard whispered, astonished by the reaction of his friends.

“They thought that training the boy for seven hours was a good thing to do. The poor boy was so exhausted he couldn't stay up long enough to eat.”

The laughter that shook the bard relieved him of the last of his worries. Seeing the two grown men treated like children at fault was priceless.

Yennefer watched him, an amused spark in her beautiful purple gaze.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes," he replied immediately. "I should go."

The corners of the witch's mouth rose.

"Are you sure? We have such a pleasant evening."

Jaskier smiled fondly at the teasing tone.

"Yeah, I have a handsome witcher waiting for me in my room."

"Oh! Lucky you." she said, eyeing the two witchers in the room, falsely annoyed.

He patted her shoulder and nodded at his friends before he took his leave.

*

  
  


Geralt tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he stared at the ceiling. He had sensed the magic radiating softly from the portal Jaskier had opened after leaving the room. Once again the bard didn't believe his words. Geralt couldn't blame him. He had done everything in his power to lose the bard's trust.

He thought of leaving, too. But he was so exhausted after running across half the Continent to see and confess to Jaskier that he just took a bath and dropped on the bed. After a good night of sleep, he would leave Novigard for good.

So when he heard footsteps in the hallway, he got up without making the slightest sound, took his steel sword, and hid right by the door. He steadied his breathing and waited.

The intruder stopped in front of the door. Geralt heard him take a deep breath and he did the same thing. The smell was Jaskier's scent. Geralt frowned. It couldn't be the bard. He had felt him leaving through a portal and no other had been opened since then.

"Fuck," he heard the intruder swear and the doorknob moved.

Geralt tightened his grip on his sword as the door opened and the intruder stepped in. The man took a few steps in the room.

"Fuck," he repeated, discovering the empty bed.

The witcher put the point of his sword against his neck. The man stiffened before sighing in relief.

"Geralt?"

Everything told the witcher the intruder was the bard. His smell, his silhouette, his voice, and his medallion remained inert against his chest.

"You were gone," growled Geralt. "I felt the portal."

Jaskier chuckled.

"Did you really think I was going to take your word for it? Without checking if I had the real Geralt in front of me? I'm not as stupid as you seem to think."

Geralt's hand shook and his grip loosened. He lowered his weapon and Jaskier turned around.

"I made a quick trip to Beauclair, talked to Yen."

His eyes got used to the darkness in the room and he realized that Geralt was naked in front of him. He swallowed as his eyes were running over the offered skin.

The smell of lust filled the witcher's nose.

"Beautiful," breathed Jaskier. "As ever."

Jaskier took one step and then another and put his hands on Geralt's chest.

"I’ve love you since the moment I laid my eyes on you at Posada," he murmured, his gaze full of desire and love, as he caught Geralt's in the dark. "You have no idea how much I want you."

Geralt smirked.

"I do. I know exactly what you mean."

The sword fell on the floor and then he cupped the bard’s neck and kissed him with passion and want. He locked the bard in a powerful embrace, eager to feel him.

Jaskier moaned and a primal growl rolled in Geralt’s chest as their hips collided and their hardening cocks rubbed against each other.

“Clothes off. Now.” Demanded the witcher, his mouth sliding on his bard's jaw, nipping the skin, kissing his way to his throat.

Jaskier laughed breathily, gasping under his lover’s ministrations.

“Eager?”

“Hum.”

Jaskier breathed a few words in Elder and as soon as his clothes had disappeared, Geralt's hands found their way under his thighs and he hoisted him in his arms.

“Show off,” the bard groaned loudly, Geralt's display of strength sent shivers down his spine, increasing the heat in his groin.

He needed him.

Now.

“Geralt,” he whined, against his lips.

The witcher purred and took him to the bed. He knelt on the sheets and tenderly laid him down.

The cornflower blue eyes were almost entirely black with desire.

"I love you."

Jaskier whimpered but he didn't have the time to respond to the declaration. Geralt assaulted his mouth and his body.

*

The next day, at noon, a portal opened in Corvo Bianco’s yard. Roach came out, led by her rider, followed by Jaskier. Both men had soft smiles on their lips.

"Exactly the man I needed!"

Yennefer had emerged from the wine cellar where Geralt had his alchemy laboratory.

Geralt raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to answer but the witch came toward Jaskier and took his hand.

"Come with me little flower, I need your help with the kid."

Geralt remained stunned, looking at his lover disappear in the cellar without a word.

Someone snickered behind his back.

Geralt snarled at Lambert when he turned.

"Oh! Come on! You look like someone stole your favorite toy."

Geralt didn't even bother to answer. Lambert was going to make fun of him for years anyway. His brother shook his head and went back to the house, a sly smile on his lips.

Eskel came to him too. He looked thoughtful.

"What?" Asked Geralt, annoyed by his brother’s behavior.

His brother gave him an amused look.

"Happy?"

Was he happy?

He had a home, a family, a lover, a son. It was everything he had hoped for but never thought he would have one day. A warm feeling filled his chest and a genuine smile lightened his face.

"Hum."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that the end was up to your expectations.  
> The first corrected chapters will be updated in the coming days.
> 
> Noa


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